


late summer

by sixteenpsyche



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Character Study, M/M, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-12 04:06:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11729169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixteenpsyche/pseuds/sixteenpsyche
Summary: kyungsoo always leaves first, and jongin knows that.but he chooses him, in every season.





	late summer

it was winter, and jongin’s sunshine came to him as a fish. reeled in, scales that shimmered so brightly he was momentarily blinded. the fish was gasping, silently at first, and then with a terrible humanity. he didn’t understand what he was seeing, how a boy with warm skin and clear eyes appeared before him, a living, breathing, beautiful thing birthed from the ugly death throes of a terrified creature. 

and when jongin asked the water to take that beautiful thing back, she seized up. 

so the boy was given a name, kyungsoo, and he stayed with the fishmonger, as a creature no man should see. their connection was primal, and jongin spent long hours thinking of nothing but the boy, and the boy grew to love him in turn, brought up on affection and a steady hand and an honest mouth. so easy to love. 

soon, the sea demanded the return of her son, but jongin refused. he asked, (‘just a little longer. please.’) and he received.

it was spring, and jongin’s sunshine was shivering in the pacific ocean. he was smiling, lips slightly blue, and in his eyes jongin saw the entirety of his happiness, a feeling so poetic and foreign it startled him. ‘it’s cold, come back to me.’ kyungsoo laughed and ran, leaving footsteps on the white sand, for just a few moments before they were swallowed up.

‘it isn’t an omen,’ jongin tells himself as he watches history undone. ‘it’s a gift.’

it was summer, and jongin’s sunshine was thriving. jongin was a poet by trade, and kyungsoo was his muse without end. with his sweat, jongin would salt his rice. by his hand, jongin would meet a happy death. his spit, his come, the black of his hair, the brown of his eyes, the pink of his lips — every part of him, perfect; no part of him, attainable. 

it was autumn, and jongin’s sunshine was elderly, and frail. or he was sick, and far too young for this to be happening. or jongin woke up next to him, and he was already cold, and the doctor did not know why. or someone else found his body smashed, brutalized, and they would not let jongin see him. or jongin did see him, and it haunted him forever, and he came to regret it, and he also did not. but kyungsoo always leaves, first. 

and jongin knows that. but he chooses him, in every season.

kyungsoo is always too loud, or too quiet, or too sad, or not fully jongin’s. but he is always full of a wonder and capacity for devotion that is otherworldly, his fingertips melding to the curves of jongin’s body, unable to leave any mark that would remain. his tongue tracing the lines of jongin’s throat, or urging against his lips. and it is a feeling as old as time. it is what jongin asked for, ripping that boy from the sea, stealing what was hers, as if they were equals. as if he had any right.

sometimes, kyungsoo is easy to say, ‘i love you’. sometimes, he never says it.

one time, he was a child left at the temple - a gift to the bodhisattva. he was so young, and jongin was even younger, and he remembers when they shaved his hair, he cried. but kyungsoo is always like a river - flowing endlessly, carving a path for himself, never staying the same. ten years later, jongin mumbled against his cock, like a prayer, and he didn’t remember what his life was like before that. jongin could have demanded anything of him, and kyungsoo would have complied. he was jongin’s place of worship, and jongin was his.

but it was hubris. it always is. making a deal in a language he did not speak, with a face he could not see, and terms he could not begin to comprehend.

‘i’d do anything to be with him. not just a little longer - forever. i want to be with him forever.’

he knows it is not his place, but the universe can be forgiving. so, he awakens one day, his life no longer grey and meaningless, his mind no longer taunting him into silence, into sleep, to escape living on that flat, colorless plane of existence that defines life without his sunshine. because jongin sees him, and he is with him again

and again

and again

until he knows kyungsoo so intimately it begins to frighten him. and there he is - even his smile is the very shape of jongin’s heart. and there he is, warming his hands against an americano, and jongin has seen it a hundred times before, and he knows what the boy is thinking, what he is going to say, how he feels in that moment. because he knows kyungsoo too well, too soon. so he has to pretend that he does not know him as intimately as he knows himself, and it hurts, and it’s hard, but it’s worth it. 

until it isn’t. until he leaves, and jongin never wins him back. until he’s taken, stolen by time or a force of nature or a man, just a man, and jongin’s name is the last word on his lips, begging for help as if jongin were a god, his god. and the sea washes over him, and he is made to feel small, and helpless, and very much like a mortal mocked by the enormity of his sins.

so he goes home, into the woods, into the city, to the barracks, to the factory, or his shack by the beach, or his mansion on a hill, or his hole in the wall. this time, he promises himself, no more. this time, he has met his match, he has reached his limit, and this time, a little bit longer was enough.

but he asked for an eternity, and he gets it again

and again

and again.

it is late summer, and jongin’s heart is heavy. the fruit is ripe and falling off the vine. the chickens are coming home to roost, and the whirlwind is wending down the hill. in his head is emptiness and longing and little else. 

but this time, kyungsoo is so beautiful. how could he resist?

(it is always the same face. the boy is always beautiful. but it never stops surprising jongin.)

‘what’s your name?’ he asks, and jongin’s body is tired, and his defenses were flattened long ago. he remembers everything. but he is a sunflower looking for his sunshine, so he follows his every move.

kyungsoo smiles, almost as if he is catching on. ‘wait, sorry. don’t i know you?’

**Author's Note:**

> i never finished goblin, tbh. 
> 
> hmu @ ssubsoo.tumblr.com ★


End file.
